


two is company, four's a party

by sunnilee



Series: the ones you return to me [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Single Parent AU, and i was finally struck with an idea while watching a video, from the requests of the sylvgrid discord...., i guess i'm starting a spinoff series on their different lifetimes that needed.... e x p a n s i o n, the doc has been open for over a month, the reincarnation au has given me so many different worlds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnilee/pseuds/sunnilee
Summary: When Sylvain saw his daughter hand-in-hand with a boy he didn't recognize, he thought it was the worst day of his life.On the contrary, maybe it was the best.
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: the ones you return to me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938115
Comments: 105
Kudos: 73





	1. earning brownie points

**Author's Note:**

  * For [English_frog45](https://archiveofourown.org/users/English_frog45/gifts), [paperpenpal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal/gifts), [Julx3tte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julx3tte/gifts), [Bayleaf6399](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayleaf6399/gifts), [nicole_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/gifts), [livmoores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livmoores/gifts), [Nightsdawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightsdawn/gifts), [the sylvgrid discord](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+sylvgrid+discord).
  * Inspired by [chasing daybreak (until the one where you'll return to me)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609703) by [sunnilee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnilee/pseuds/sunnilee). 



> For context: the sylvgrid discord has pestered me about the single parent au from its conception in chapter 10 of [chasing daybreak](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609703/chapters/62284276).
> 
> this is more or less a direct continuation from that chapter, so pls, [sylvgrid discord](https://discord.gg/mz7pa5z), _let me rest_ (jk i love all of you)

Sylvain wakes the next morning with dry eyes and feels like he hasn’t blinked since last night. He stared at Ingrid’s text message for hours after and suddenly the sun was rising. He barely slept a wink, if at all.

Sunlight peeks through his curtains and he groans as he stretches out his stiff limbs. He doesn’t even get the chance to get out of his covers when his door creaks open and a ginger blur lands on him with an excited squeal. “Daddy! Did you text her?”

It’s too early in the morning to undergo his daughter’s scolding, so he lies through his teeth. “Yes—”

“Then, did you get the recipe? Can we make the brownies today? Do we need to go grocery shopping? Why are you still in bed? Let’s go—”

He groans again as two tiny hands squish his cheeks and his blankets are thrown off him. He can’t even rub his eyes because Noelle is tugging his arms to get him out of bed as she bounces up and down. His feet barely touch the floor and he’s being corralled into the bathroom where he catches sight of his bloodshot eyes and dark circles.

He grimaces at his reflection, and then at the smack he receives on his leg. “Ow, hey!”

Sylvain squints at his daughter, who glares right back at him. She taps the non-existent watch on her wrist and he rolls his eyes. He ruffles her hair and she squeals again, batting his hand away. “C’mon daddy! We don’t have all day!”

Picking up his toothbrush, he sighs in defeat. “Okay, gingersnap. Let an old man freshen up, hm?”

Noelle smacks his leg one more time for good measure before turning to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Thank goodness! What if we ran into Miss Galatea at the store with you looking like that?”

Sylvain chokes on his toothpaste as the bathroom door slams shut.

* * *

Sylvain feels like the tiny text on his phone screen is mocking him. Really mocking him.

The kitchen counter is dusted with all purpose flour and cocoa powder, the glass mixing bowl smeared with greasy fingerprints, and the only baking sheet in the townhouse sported brownies that are more burnt than anything else.

He glances at Noelle, an unreadable expression on her face. He gulps. He expected huffing. He expected frustration, maybe even tears. His daughter is only eight years old, and she’s already got him guessing what she’s thinking—“I think we should call Miss Galatea.”

He balks. “What? Why?”

He watches Noelle raise her eyebrows and stare incredulously at him, her gaze jumping from the burnt pan to his face. “I don’t know, daddy. Why do _you_ think?”

He feels an awful lot like the child in this relationship instead of the parent. He runs a hand over his face and inhales deeply. “She’s a busy woman, gingersnap. I don’t want to bother her—hey, what are you doing!”

Noelle had snatched his phone off the countertop, screen still unlocked from their ‘ _baking session’_ for the recipe, and currently has his phone pressed to her ear. He lunges after her, but she dances away with a huge smile on her face. She has the _audacity_ to raise a finger to her mouth and whisper loudly, “ _shhhhh_ , it’s ringing!”

Sylvain bites back a curse as he reaches for his phone again, but Noelle ducks under his arm and he watches in horror as her face lights up when the other line picks up. He hates how his heart rate spikes too with the muffled ‘ _hello?_ ’ he hears from the other end.

“Miss Galatea, we need your help—daddy!”

His palms are sweating as he raises the phone to his ear. “Hey, sorry. Noelle got a hold of my phone. Didn’t mean to bother you!”

“No worries, it wasn’t a bother at all. It was a pleasant surprise hearing her voice when I expected yours.” Sylvain can _hear_ the smile in her voice and feel the blush burning the back of his neck. _‘When I expected yours’?_

“…Yes? I have your number saved in my phone, so you showed up on caller ID.”

 _Oh. He said it out loud._ Sylvain feels his face flush and he stammers, “I-I mean, right! Of course. Sorry, I didn’t get much sleep yesterday evening. Late night and all.”

He hears her light laughter and he’s kicking himself. _Late night and all?_ _That could be taken so many different ways—_ “Really now? Did you end up trying the recipe I sent?”

She’s a saint. She’s giving him an out, and he’s running with it. “Yes! I, uh. Yes. I did.”

Ingrid hums and he feels his chest tighten. “How’d it go? I didn’t see any domestic fires in the headlines today, so I’m assuming you did something right.”

Sylvain glances back at the blackened pain in the kitchen. “Um—” Noelle yanks on his elbow and he stumbles, dropping his phone. She scoops it up and dashes off. Blinking twice, he doesn’t register what just happened until he hears the slam of the bathroom door and the lock clicking into place. He chases after his daughter _far_ too late. “Noelle!”

Stifled giggles and hushed murmurs come through the door, and Sylvain lets his head land on the wood with a thump. “ _Noelle._ ”

He tries turning the doorknob, but it rattles in place. He sighs and leans against the door, trying to decipher _what_ exactly his daughter is saying to Ingrid. Before he can even try knocking again, the door swings open and he loses his balance. Catching himself against the sink, he catches sight of Noelle’s far too innocent smile. “Can we go over to Elliot’s?”

Sylvain narrows his eyes at her. “You can’t just invite yourself over—”

“Miss Galatea invited us over.”

His heart stops in his chest.

“She—”

“She said she has some free time today, and she’ll make the brownies with us!”

His daughter shoves his phone back in his hand and juts her chin out. “Ask her!”

He prays his voice isn’t shaking like his hands. “Hello?”

“Welcome back.” The smile is still in her voice and Sylvain feels his heart restart. He swallows thickly. “You’re really okay with us coming over?”

He looks back down at Noelle, who’s toying with the edges of the apron she made him buy at the grocery store. She looks back at him, eyes shining with hope and he feels his chest tighten.

“Of course. I don’t work the weekend shift this week, so I have some free time on my hands.”

He wants to take her offer. He really does. Not just for himself, but for Noelle too, remembering how shy she got when they first went to get ice cream with Elliot and Ingrid. Remembering how quietly she asked him if it had to be just the two of them.

But he also remembers how rushed Ingrid looked at many of their parent-teacher conference meetings and how grateful she was when he kept her updated.

He had to make sure. “We’d love to come over, but just… are you getting enough rest? The last thing we want to do is take up your free weekend when you need a break from work.”

Ingrid is quiet on the phone for a few moments, and Sylvain wonders if he said something wrong. “Ing—?”

“That’s sweet of you, Sylvain. Thank you for thinking of me… it means a lot.”

Her voice is warm, and he feels his throat tighten. “Hey, of course. I… I know how difficult it can be.”

She’s silent again and Noelle tugs on his apron. He looks down and meets her pleading eyes. Ingrid’s voice sounds in his ear again. “Really, thank you. Though, you’re in luck today. I was going to try some new recipes out this afternoon with Elliot, and we’d love to have a few extra hands in the kitchen.”

Sylvain pointedly ignores the mess in the kitchen and winks at his daughter. “Okay. We’ll be there.”

Noelle cries out with excitement and throws her arms around his legs, and he hears Ingrid’s simultaneous laughter over the phone. “I’ll send you the address. See you soon.”

His stomach rolls over and he gulps. “Thanks! Yeah, see you soon.”

The moment the call ends, Noelle is dragging him toward his room. “I’m picking out your clothes!”

“Gingersnap, we’re _baking—_ ”

* * *

The car has been in park for not even two seconds and Noelle already has her seatbelt unbuckled, back seat door swinging open. He stumbles out of the car after her and finds himself unreasonably nervous as they wait outside the apartment complex.

Sylvain finds the button for Ingrid’s apartment and lifts Noelle up so she can press it. The door buzzes open and he feels his heart rate pick up again.

As they climb the stairs to the third floor, he hears a door crack open and Elliot’s voice call down. “Noelle?”

His daughter perks up immediately and darts past him. “Elliot!”

Sylvain reaches the top step in time to see Noelle bowl her best friend over, the two of them laughing as Elliot tugs her in. “Mom’s lemon bars just finished, but she’s pulling out all the brownie stuff for us!”

Elliot’s eyes flash over to his and the boy smiles wider than he’s ever seen. “Hi Mister Gautier! I’m glad you and Noelle could come over!”

His heart swells with the sight and he ruffles the boy’s hair fondly. “Of course. Thank you for inviting us.”

Elliot’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing briefly before he ducks away and runs back into the apartment, Noelle in tow. Sylvain stares after him, blinking rapidly, then looks at his hand. _Reflex ruffling with Noelle._

When he looks back up, Ingrid is in the doorway with her hair tied back and flour on her cheeks. He blinks a few more times as she smiles at him curiously. “Hi.”

Sylvain feels the back of his neck heat and smiles back. “Hi.”

She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. “Are you coming in, or are you just here for the free smells?”

“Can I have both?”

Ingrid snorts at him and shakes her head, but lets him in all the same. “So, I heard a version from Noelle. Why don’t you tell me your side of the story?”

Completely intent on answering her, Sylvain was about to defend himself when the smell of fresh lemons and buttery crust slams into him. “That smells _delicious._ ”

Laughing at his sudden outburst, Ingrid leads him into the kitchen and gestures at the neatly cut lemon squares that Noelle and Elliot are already enjoying. “Trade a treat for your secrets?”

Noelle takes one last piece from the plate before Elliot brings it over to him, looking every where but him. Sylvain smiles fondly and takes a piece. “I don’t know if this is a fair trade. Thank you, Elliot.”

Ingrid reaches over and puts another piece in his hands. “Then, how about two?”

He watches Elliot put the plate back on the table and how he beams when Ingrid smooths his hair down to drop a kiss on the top of his head. “Definitely not a fair trade. Two treats to find out I didn’t burn the house down, but the brownies suffered a different fate? We need to work on your haggling, Ing. This is no way to do business.”

Ingrid raises an eyebrow at him, and he realizes too late that he shortened her name. _But it sounded right._ The corner of her mouth quirks up. “I don’t know much about haggling, but I think the bribery worked pretty well.”

Sylvain gasps scandalously as she turns away to bring out all the ingredients for the new brownie recipe. He looks to Elliot and Noelle who are poorly hiding their snickers behind their sticky hands. “Elliot, did your mom just _bribe_ secrets out of me with lemon bars?”

Elliot barely hides his smile and shrugs innocently. Noelle on the other hand, shakes her head and sighs. “You’re just a big softie for Miss Galatea, daddy.”

Flushing violently, Sylvain’s eyes flicker over to Ingrid, whose back is still turned, his heart hammering in his chest. “ _Noelle._ ”

“I’m just telling the truth, like you always tell me to!”

“This isn’t what I—”

“Well it _sounds_ like Noelle was telling the truth about the brownies, so why don’t you show me exactly what happened?”

Sylvain whirls around to see Ingrid with her arms full of mixing bowls and measuring cups. He takes a few of them off her hands to place on the dinner table, their fingers brushing in the process. As Ingrid retreats back to the mini-pantry for the ingredients, he hopes he isn’t imagining the blush on her cheeks.

* * *

Instead of repeating the mishaps from this morning, Ingrid is talking Elliot and Noelle through the wet and dry ingredients, guiding their hands with the whisk too large for their hands. Ingrid is helping Elliot with a tougher chunk of butter, so Sylvain watches as Noelle starts on beating the eggs, her grip on the whisk slipping.

He leans his elbow on the table and watches the bowl tip precariously, his hand shoots out to catch it as the whisk clatters out of her hand. The sugary egg mixture whips onto his face before the whisk lands on the ground and Sylvain blinks at his daughter, who blinks right back at him. The sounds of stirring from Ingrid and Elliot stop too and Sylvain takes a deep breath. “Got us into some whisky business huh, gingersnap?”

Ingrid’s snort warms his heart and the brush of her finger against his cheek warms his face.

“You don’t get any brownie points for that one.”


	2. the big picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up Elliot with Noelle after school isn't a big deal. In fact, Sylvain's more than happy to do it if it makes Ingrid's life easier.
> 
> Sleepovers? Not a big deal either.
> 
> ...Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday month to my fellow clowns [paperpenpal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperpenpal) and [nicole_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes) <3
> 
> here's some unedited, gratuitous fluff because once next week rolls around, I'll be swimming in research and academics that I can't think about stupidvain on the regular...

Sylvain watches Noelle practically vibrate in the back seat as he sends her to school. Tonight’s the night.

Movie night.

Noelle has been _begging_ to have Elliot over since their baking party, and it’s been a whole circus trying to coordinate their schedules.

Specifically, Ingrid’s hours.

His job as a freelance consultant makes it easy to keep his work hours well within his control. As far as he could gather from their baking session, Ingrid works everyday at Fantine Sweets, a bakery shop owned by the mother of their kids’ homeroom teacher, Annette Dominic.

 _Apparently,_ they knew each other in college. Annette had gone onto pursue an education degree, which he is _entirely_ grateful for because he can’t even _begin_ to imagine what he would do with Noelle if she had a less energetic teacher…

Ingrid on the other hand, had graduated with Annette, but had to take time off to take care of her father. She mentioned hospital bills and declining health… and somewhere along the way, Elliot came into the picture.

Sylvain’s heart twisted when he watched her eyes glaze over, fingers unconsciously gripping her mug as the brownies baked in the oven. He didn’t have much to offer her at the time, and he’s _still_ kicking himself for it.

He wasn’t… his story wasn’t far off from hers. Rather, he’d run off after college the moment he graduated, to get as _far away_ from his family as possible. Irresponsible streak still running high, Noelle had been a blessing in disguise.

And he wouldn’t give her up for the world.

Even _if_ she keeps trying to set him up with Ingrid.

Because as loathe as he is to admit it, he rather enjoys seeing Noelle cook up different ways to push them together. And if he gets to spend more time with Ingrid as a result…

So be it.

He’ll let his own daughter wingman for him, because Goddess knows he needs it with Ingrid. Sylvain doesn’t usually have any trouble with public speaking of any kind. He knows his way around words, uses it to his advantage when dealing with difficult clients.

With Ingrid?

His tongue is perpetually tied. He trips over himself, and her green eyes makes his heart rate spike. He can’t put his finger on it, but he feels… at _ease_ around her.

She feels like home.

Something that _completely_ overwhelms him, because he’s not quite sure he’s ever felt that.

Because she understands, in her soft smiles and weary eyes, that he doesn’t have to put up any false pretenses or put on a show that he’s a single dad. He gets to relax and just… _be._

The car rolls to a stop and Sylvain shifts gears into park while Noelle hastily unbuckles her seatbelt, bursting out of the door. He scrambles out of the car after her and feels his chest warm as his daughter doubles back, throwing her arms around his legs as she squeezes tightly. “I love you, daddy.”

Smile on his face, he reaches down and ruffles her hair. “Love you too, gingersnap. Behave yourself, okay?”

Noelle pouts and sticks her tongue out at him. Before she can sass him back, her eyes light up and Sylvain’s heart skips. Turning his head, he sees a blond blur running toward them and Noelle releases his legs instantly, arms catching and swinging Elliot in a circle as they laugh gleefully. They bounce up and down in place, hushed voices racing through all the different things they could do tonight because ‘ _it’s movie night’_ and ‘ _what kind of snacks should we eat’_ , and even _‘do you think we can stay up all night?’_.

The warmth in his chest spreads to his fingertips as he watches the two of them talk animatedly, his skin tingling as someone else approaches. His heart feels her before he hears her. “You’ve got your hands full tonight, hm?”

The back of his neck heats and he turns to face Ingrid, heart already hammering against his ribs. He smiles. “I’ll keep the sugar out of reach, but I promise nothing of what you’ll come back to when you pick Elliot up tonight.”

She laughs lightly, shaking her head. Sylvain’s mouth dries as he watches her blonde hair flutter around her face. “That’s really all I can ask for. Thank you so much for doing this Sylvain, really. You’re a huge lifesaver.”

“Of course. I know how it can be, getting babysitters last minute. I’m happy to help in any way I can. Besides, this seems like a win-win for those two. They couldn’t be happier, huh?”

Ingrid turns her gaze to their kids, eyes sparkling. “I guess you could say that. We could probably do this more often for them, wouldn’t you say?”

Sylvain’s breath stutters in his chest. _More often?_ His words get stuck in his throat, but Ingrid whips back to him, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume—”

He kickstarts his mouth into motion. “N-no. I think it’s a great idea. They’ll get to spend more time with each other, and you don’t have to worry about leaving your shift to pick Elliot up from school. Besides, I work from home anyways, so it’s not a big deal for me to take both of them home with me.”

She bites her bottom lip, brow furrowing. “What about you?”

Sylvain blinks at her. “What about me?”

“What do you get out of this? It doesn’t feel right if I’m the only one benefitting from these arrangements…”

 _Getting to see you._ He bites his tongue as his mind _very_ unhelpfully supplies him with things he _definitely_ shouldn’t say out loud. “Uh…”

“He gets an excuse to see you, Miss Galatea!”

Sylvain flushes violently and whirls around to face Noelle, meeting the _far_ too innocent smile on her face with an incredulous glare.

_He takes everything he thought during the car ride back._

Before he can even stammer out an excuse, Ingrid throws her head back and laughs. “Surely there’s something more than that I can do?”

Noelle’s mischievous eyes flash to his and his words burst out of him before she can mortify him further. “Dinner!”

 _That is, if he doesn’t mortify himself first._ His cheeks flame as Ingrid looks at him, eyes wide. “Dinner?”

Sylvain licks his lips and keeps his mouth running. “T-that is, um, you could bring us some dinner, when you come pick Elliot up? I’m sure these two will burn off whatever pizza and snacks I get for them before the end of the night.”

Ingrid studies him quietly and he flusters even further under her gaze. “A-and, well, then you could sit down and have dinner with us, so you don’t really miss out on anything?”

_He is talking himself into a hole he doesn’t even think Noelle can dig him out of, he needs to stop, somebody needs to stop him—_

“Okay.”

His mind stops. “What?”

“I’ll bring dinner.” Ingrid’s teasing smile makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter up a storm and he nods his head jerkily, no longer trusting himself to speak.

Sylvain thinks his heart stops completely when she sends him a quick wink before ducking down to give Elliot a hug.

Just off to the side, he meets his daughter’s smug smile with an exasperated expression. Noelle shrugs innocently and happily accepts a hug from Ingrid as well. His heart restarts when Ingrid stands again and stops in front of him, hesitating. His chest tightens uncomfortably as she lingers in front of him, chewing her bottom lip as she finds the words to say.

Anything he could’ve said to fill in the sudden silence gets wiped from his mind as Ingrid steps forward to wrap him in a loose hug, her words barely registering over the blood pounding in his ears. “I’ll see you later tonight, then.”

Just as quickly, she lets go and hurries off to her car, sending a quick wave over her shoulder.

Sylvain wonders how he’s going to make the drive home with the way his head spins.

* * *

Noelle and Elliot sit on their usual bench outside when he pulls up in the parking lot. His daughter spots him before he can even get out of the car and she’s sprinting over with Elliot in tow, he can practically _see_ the energy radiating off her. “Daddy, daddy! Let’s go, let’s go! We made a list of snacks we want from the store!”

A scrap of paper is pushed into his hands as he’s stuffed back into the driver seat, Noelle and Elliot clambering into the back, seat belts clicking simultaneously as they turn their bright eyes on him. “C’mon daddy, before the sun sets! We have _so much_ we want to do before Elliot has to go!”

Despite his normally quiet demeanor, Elliot’s enthusiasm matches Noelle’s as he nods vigorously. “Please, Mister Gautier? We want to watch three movies!”

Buckling himself in, Sylvain laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, okay. At least let me drive safe so your mom doesn’t kill me, all right?”

Elliot smiles toothily at him and Sylvain is struck with how happy and relaxed he looks sitting in the back of his car next to Noelle.

_Does it have to be just the two of us?_

His eyes flicker over to Noelle who has a matching smile on her face, hand clutching Elliot’s tightly. Sylvain feels his chest warm.

… _Maybe it doesn’t._

* * *

The TV casts a dim blue glow over the two sleeping kids, one of Sylvain’s blankets tossed over the two of them as they lay slumped over on the couch, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn sitting on the table in front of them.

Sylvain himself rubs his eyes wearily and checks his watch. _Nine in the evening. Where is she?_

Jokes about dinner aside, he was starting to get a little worried. He got her text about two hours ago that she might be running a little bit late, having to help close up shop when one of her co-workers ended up having to go to the emergency department for a burn injury…

But that was two hours ago.

He broke the news to the kids. He expected the brief look of distraught that passed over Elliot’s face, he did _not_ expect how quickly it would disappear when Noelle jumped up and held their blanket overhead, waving it around like a victory flag, beaming widely. “ _Sleepover!_ ”

Sylvain barely had time to wrangle her in when Elliot jumps up to join her, excited voice echoing Noelle, “ _Sleepover!”_

His placating words falling on deaf ears, Elliot and Noelle parade around the couch, their gleeful giggling filling the townhouse with a warmth he didn’t realize he was missing.

Now, with the sun well below the horizon and their soft, even breaths of sleep, Sylvain’s chest tightens. _A sleepover it is._ Slinking over quietly, he carefully lifts Noelle into his arms, heart tugging when she whines lightly and pushes her face into his neck as her hands grasp at his shirt.

He waits for her to settle before walking over to her room and tucking her into bed. Just as he untangles her fingers from his shirt, Noelle scrunches her nose and cracks open her eyes. “Daddy? Where’s Elliot?”

Sylvain brushes her hair back from her face, smiling softly. “I’m getting him in just a moment, gingersnap. Keep sleeping and I’ll bring him over.”

She nods sleepily into her pillow and Sylvain presses a light kiss to her forehead before heading back out into the living room. Elliot’s cocooned into the blanket, fingers curling in the fuzzy material as he buries his face. Smiling lightly, Sylvain bends over and gently places a hand on his shoulder. “Elliot?”

The boy shifts under his touch, head peeking out from underneath the blanket, brown eyes blinking blearily. “Dad?”

Sylvain’s stomach lurches and his throat tightens. Shaking his head, he whispers, “sorry, buddy. It’s Mister Gautier. You came over for movies, remember?”

Elliot stares at him quietly without another word and his skin tingles. Taking a seat on the edge of the couch, he whispers again, “You want to sleep in a bed? I put Noelle back in her room if you’d like to join her.”

Sylvain watches him look down at the blanket in his lap, then at the couch, then back at him. Elliot nods silently and reaches out for him. Heart skipping, Sylvain lets Elliot climb into his lap and wrap his arms around his neck, chin resting on his shoulder. He tucks the boy securely against him, his wispy blond hair tickling his jaw as he stands and walks back to Noelle’s room.

His daughter is predictably not asleep when he returns, but scoots over in her bed as he gets closer. He sets Elliot down and Noelle throws her blanket over the two of them, snuggling in close with a content smile on her face.

Sylvain smiles one last time before leaving the room quietly, gently shutting the door as he makes his way back to the couch. With a deep sigh, he sinks down into the cushions and pulls his phone back out. He taps on Ingrid’s last message and frowns, worry brewing in his stomach. Biting his lip, he starts typing out a message.

_Sylvain: Are you okay?_

His heart jumps into his throat as he sees ‘ _Ingrid is typing…’_ pop up immediately. Sylvain watches her type for what feels like forever, his palms beginning to sweat as she _keeps_ typing, then his breath freezes in his chest.

_Ingrid: I’m outside_

Bolting up, Sylvain scrambles to his door and wrenches his door open, eyes briefly taking in the sheepish look on Ingrid’s face before dropping to the takeout bags she’s holding in her bandaged hands—

_Wait, bandaged?_

Mind buzzing, Sylvain unceremoniously pulls her in and snatches the bags from her grip. He barely sets them on the table before returning to her, dragging her under the kitchen lights to take a closer look. The bandages are fresh, her hands still shaking lightly as she tries not to flinch away from his touch. He thins his lips and meets her guilty eyes. “What happened?”

“I told you, burn injury—”

“You said that was for your _co-worker_ —”

Ingrid sighs and blows at the fringe in her face. “It _was…_ I just happened to be silly enough to try and catch the pan she dropped out of reflex, not registering _why_ she dropped it because it was fresh out of the oven.”

Sylvain blinks at her. “You… what?”

She studies the gauze and shrugs. “I’m just so used to catching falling objects from Annette’s hands, I didn’t even think twice before trying to catch the baking sheet, so here we are.”

“Wait, Annette? As in, homeroom teacher Annette Dominic?”

A wry smile climbs onto her face as she nods. “One and the same. She stopped by after school to help staff the front. During a lull in service, she tried her hand in the kitchen again and… well. Here we are.”

Sylvain chokes back a snort. “Here we are,” his eyes drop back down to her hands and asks, “how are they feeling now?”

Ingrid lightly lifts her hands out of his while Sylvain’s ears burn. _He didn’t realize he was still holding them—_

“Better. Still some throbbing, but manageable.”

“And yet you still thought it’d be a good idea to carry takeout here?”

“Well, _you_ said ‘bring dinner’ and I’m two hours late… I wasn’t about to let you go hungry.”

Sylvain feels his heart flutter and purses his lips. “I’d rather go hungry than have you make your injuries worse…”

And horribly on cue, his stomach growls and he wills the flush on the back of his neck to dissipate as Ingrid laughs quietly. Her eyes search the townhouse before murmuring, “the kids asleep?”

He nods. “Yeah, just put them to bed right before I texted you.”

She exhales slowly and smiles. “Thank you,” she gestures at the bags she brought over. “It doesn’t make sense for both of us to suffer. Eat it and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Sylvain’s forehead creases. “It’s late.”

Ingrid raises an eyebrow at him, and he hastily adds, “and you’ve burned your hands. Rest them a little.”

“You realize if I rest my hands, it’ll be even later when I go home?”

“Then stay over.”

Her lips part and Sylvain feels his entire body burn as his mind finally catches up to his words. Mortification growing, he stutters, “I-I mean, it’s not what it sounds like! Well, it is… but _not_ like that. I just… when I told Elliot and Noelle you were running late, they, uh… sort of declared a sleepover on their own—”

“So, what you’re saying is to be more like our kids?”

Sylvain thinks back to the way Noelle happily snuggled in closer to her friend and feels his face burn. _Ingrid, cuddling in closer to him—_

“Sylvain?”

“T-take the bed! I’ll grab some clothes for you and I’ll take the couch—”

Ingrid grabs his elbow before he can rush off to do exactly that, but more importantly, _hide his face from her_. “Wait, I’m not taking the bed if you’re taking the couch! I can’t kick you out of your own bed—”

“You’re my _guest_ , Ingrid. There’s no way I’m going to let you sleep on the couch. I didn’t even let the kids stay asleep on the couch!”

She raises an eyebrow at him and crosses her arms. “You won’t let me or the kids sleep on the couch, but you’d do it yourself?”

Sylvain opens his mouth to argue when Ingrid cuts him off, “how big is your bed?”

His brain short circuits. “…what?”

Ingrid flushes and drops her gaze to her hands, idly picking on the bandages. “I just… we’re two grown adults right? If your bed is big enough, we’ll share. That way you don’t end up with a crick in your neck and I don’t violate your principles of hospitality.”

Her words do absolutely _nothing_ to restart his mind. If anything, he thinks she’s completely burned the motherboard of all his thoughts.

_Well, except for one._

Sylvain gulps as he desperately tries to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. “You… want to share the bed?”

She fidgets in place and turns away from him. “You know what, it’s fine. I’m taking the couch. I’m smaller than you, I can fit comfortably—”

“ _No_ , you aren’t. We’ll share. It’s what the kids are doing after all—”

Ingrid’s face lights up and he stops midsentence to smile back. He jerks his head toward Noelle’s room and they quietly tiptoe over, cracking the door open enough for Ingrid to peek in.

Noelle and Elliot are sound asleep, the blanket rising and falling with their even breathing. Ingrid backs away and Sylvain closes the door after her. His mouth dries as he realizes how close she is. He licks his lips. “C’mon. I have an extra set of toiletries for you if you want to wash up. I’ll get you some clothes and do a bit of clean-up.”

“I’ll help—”

“Absolutely not. You’ve had one hell of a night, all you’re allowed to do is to go straight to bed.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes at him and snorts but holds her hands up in surrender anyway. “Okay, _dad_.”

Her teasing sends a jolt down his spine. _Elliot_ and _Ingrid_ _have both called him ‘dad’._ Cheeks burning, Sylvain gestures toward the room down the hall and chokes out, “my room is over there, bathroom is in there too. The side drawer has extra towels and a toothbrush.”

Ingrid hesitates. “You sure you don’t need any help?”

He nods firmly. “None at all.”

“And… you’re okay with this? I didn’t… overstep anything?”

Sylvain blinks blankly before his mind clicks. “No! No, this is one hundred percent fine. You’re not overstepping anything.” He thankfully bites his tongue before _‘I am very much your quintessential,_ definitely single _, dad’_ slips out.

Ingrid studies his face for a few more moments before finally smiling. She steps a little closer and touches his shoulder. “Thank you, Sylvain. I really appreciate all of this.”

Her hand lingers for just a while longer before slipping off when she leans away, heading off in the direction of his room. Sylvain watches her go, the image of her disappearing behind his door seared into his memory as stomach lurches violently.

_What has he just gotten himself into?_

He waits a few more minutes to let his racing heart calm down before hurrying after her. His bathroom door is closed and he rushes to his dresser to lay out an old t-shirt and shorts for Ingrid before darting back into the kitchen.

Though his appetite is decidedly _gone_ in light of their very-responsible-adult shared-decision making, he peeks into the takeout bags Ingrid brought over. The smell of roasted chicken skewers reach him and his chest warms. _She really did bring dinner._

Stomach growling one more time, Sylvain decides that maybe eating one couldn’t hurt…

_Not like he could go into his room without getting a heart attack right now anyway._

* * *

Ingrid finds the extra set of toiletries with ease and gets about brushing her teeth with her bandaged hands. She grimaces as she clumsily tries to get an awkward grip on the toothbrush without irritating her injuries. While brushing, Ingrid idly glances around the bathroom, noting just single sets of everything. Toothbrush, towel, hair products, and a box of flowery band-aids.

_Must be for Noelle._

Warmth blooms in her chest as she imagines Sylvain picking the box out at the store himself, picking the prettiest band-aids for his daughter. Smiling, Ingrid swigs her mouth with water and exits the bathroom, heart fluttering when she sees his clothes laid out on the bed for her. She hurriedly changes into them, willing the blush on her cheeks to fade as she tightens the drawstring on the shorts and pointedly ignores how _nice_ his clothes smell before she steps out of his room.

She spots him leaning back in the chair, absently munching on one of the chicken skewers she brought. The back of her neck heats when he turns to face her, eyes widening as he freezes mid-bite. Ingrid clears her throat self-consciously before joining him at the dinner table. “Are they good?”

Sylvain openly stares at her, jaw slack with a blush burning across the bridge of his nose. Ingrid bites her lip and tries again. “Sylvain?”

He jolts in his seat and she watches his face turn a tomato red as he fumbles with the chicken skewer. Choking back a laugh, Ingrid’s skin tingles as he poorly tries to find something to busy himself with to hide the fact that he was _staring_. At her. In his clothes.

Ingrid smiles and teases him, “that bad, huh?”

Sylvain flushes even further and stutters out, “n-no, they’re good! Really good. Thank you for bringing them.”

“Of course. We can go get them in person next time, they’re even better fresh.”

Sylvain suddenly starts coughing and Ingrid leans over in concern as he struggles to catch his breath. “Are you okay?”

Still wheezing, he puts a hand up and nods. “Y-yeah, fine.”

Ingrid hums doubtfully. “Right. Well, I’m done with your bathroom if you need it. I can help clean up here so you can wash up—”

Sylvain pushes back from the table abruptly and shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll just put these away, nothing to clean. You can, uh, you can pick a side?”

Ingrid blinks. “…Pick a side?”

“O-of the bed. I don’t mind either way.”

 _His bed. Right._ Her cheeks heat as she nods. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll see you in there?”

Sylvain makes some sort of strangled confirmation and Ingrid turns on her heel back to his room, her blood pounding in her ears.

_She hasn’t felt more like a teenager in years._

* * *

As soon as Ingrid retreats back to his room, Sylvain releases the breath he was holding and clutches at his chest. _He hasn’t_ _felt this way in years._ Trying to breathe as steadily as possible, he stores the food in his fridge before mentally steeling himself to go wash up for the night.

He may be a dad, but he is a _single_ dad with a very, _very_ attractive friend who’s about to share a bed with him—

Sylvain groans quietly to himself and squeezes his eyes shut. _Noelle will never let him live this down._

With one more sharp exhale, Sylvain pushes himself back to his room, pointedly keeping his eyes on his bathroom as he rushes in and shuts the door. He _refuses_ to give into his teenage impulses to _look_ where Ingrid is probably settled into his blankets and—

_No. Stop that._

He speeds through his nightly routine and swallows the lump in his throat at seeing a second toothbrush on the bathroom counter. He splashes cold water on his face repeatedly, hoping it would calm the way his entire body burns thinking about how Ingrid is sleeping over.

_She’s staying overnight._

_With him._

_In bed—_

Sylvain slaps his cheeks harshly and whispers harshly to himself, “ _get it together._ You are _not_ 19 anymore.”

With one splash of water, he exits the bathroom and stalls by the door. Ingrid has already crawled under the blankets, but she hasn’t slept yet. _At least, her breaths seem too measured for that._ Throat tightening, Sylvain flips the light off and quietly climbs into bed, heart thumping irregularly as he feels Ingrid’s warmth beneath the covers. She doesn’t turn to face him, but her weight shifts and her quiet murmur reaches his ears. “Goodnight, Sylvain.”

Inhaling deeply, Sylvain does his best to settle into his pillows, murmuring back, “goodnight, Ingrid.”

They both fall silent, the sounds of their breathing filling the room and he idly debates the pros and cons of getting a crick in his neck, especially considering how _tense_ he still feels.

Sylvain doesn’t know how much time passes, but Ingrid’s breathing eventually evens out and he finally feels himself relax. Sleep starts to creep on the edges of his consciousness as he breathes in the smell of citrus blossoms and he lets himself drift off.

He doesn’t hear his door crack open and close just as quickly.

* * *

The next morning, Sylvain springs up in bed with his blankets pooling in his lap. His head whips to the cooling empty space next to him, his heart clenching in his chest. Then, panic shoots down his spine. _Oh no, does she need to work today?_

Sylvain jumps out of bed and bursts out of his room, shirt rumpled and hair in complete disarray. He meets three sets of eyes with varying expressions of glee, amusement, and embarrassment. Elliot waves an energetic ‘ _good morning’_ with breadcrumbs at the corners of his mouth. Noelle sips at her milk far too innocently while Ingrid turns away from him and busies herself with spreading peanut butter on the piece of toast in front of her.

His pulse skips when he notices her pink ears and Noelle’s pointed look at him as he comes closer. He clears his throat, voice still raspy with sleep, “I’m so sorry I slept in, you’re not late for anything are you? Goddess, _and_ you made the kids breakfast? Ingrid, you can leave if you have to! I’m sorry, I should have set an alarm—”

Ingrid turns to face him, blush still on her face as she doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s fine! It’s the least I can do after, um, after you let us stay over. Isn’t that right, Elliot?”

Elliot nods excitedly and chirps, “yeah! Thank you so much, Mister Gautier! I had a lot of fun.”

Noelle hums and swings her legs under the table. “We should do it again some time! And maybe Miss Galatea can join us earlier next time too?”

Ingrid flusters as Noelle looks at her hopefully, stammering, “o-of course. I’d love to. I’m sorry I missed it.”

Noelle beams and sips her milk again. Sylvain rubs the back of his neck, his own flush climbing his face. “Then… you don’t have to be anywhere?”

“I, no. Not unless you need us to leave—”

“No! No, stay. Stay as long as you like.”

Sylvain catches the sparkle in Noelle’s eye as she smiles widely into her cup, but she _thankfully_ stays quiet. _Probably because there’s nothing left of him to bury after that remark._

His heart stops when he sees Ingrid smile. “Okay.”

She moves to sit at the dining table next to Noelle and slides him a cup of coffee. Sylvain takes the seat next to Elliot across from her.

Her eyes dart to his and then away, studying her toast as her cheeks get rosier.

His chest warms.

Sylvain lifts his mug to his lips and he thinks he likes this.

He thinks he wants every morning like this.

* * *

One month later, Sylvain finds a new drawing from Noelle taped to the fridge and he nearly drops his morning coffee.

There’s a picture of herself and Elliot building a blanket fort in her room.

And then there’s a picture of him and _Ingrid._ As best as he can tell, she’s tucked under his chin, asleep with a small smile on her face.

“Do you like it, daddy?”

Sylvain whirls around and finds Noelle smiling widely at him. “Miss Dominic started us on art yesterday and told us to draw a picture of our favorite memory!”

“ _Noelle—_ ”

His daughter skips closer and grabs his hand, swinging it idly. “Look at the bigger picture, daddy! It makes us look like we’re a family, right?”

His chest tightens and his heart skips. “Yeah, gingersnap. It does.”

_And every second longer he spends looking, he wants it even more._


	3. All I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little holiday shopping never hurt anybody.
> 
> Supposedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffcember prompts (by @doop_doop2 on twitter): 3 and 16 - hand holding and gift giving
> 
> I got major FOMO seeing everyone post for Fluffcember because I LOVE FLUFF.... but I'm currently in interviewing season and I'm about to have the busiest two months of my life :(
> 
> I'm sorry for the non-updates, but I promise I'm still working in the background!! (here's looking at you reincarnation au....)  
> I'm unfortunately pretty booked until Feb, but if I can get it out during my free time, you best b e l i e v e i'm not gonna leave my sylvgrid babies behind <3
> 
> So here's a little something short with some fluffcember prompts :)

Sylvain’s heart jumps into his throat when a smaller hand curls around his fingers, gripping tightly. He’s silly. He’s _completely_ silly because _he_ was the one who asked Elliot to grab his hand so he wouldn’t get lost in the sea of legs as they navigated through the crowd of people shopping for last minute holiday gifts back to their designated meeting spot.

They started off together. Him and Ingrid with their kids, that is.

At first, it was just Noelle goading him into the mall to buy something for Ingrid, considering all the time they spent together now. He was hesitant at first, with them toeing the line between friends and something more… he wasn’t sure when he should take the next step.

 _If_ … he should take the next step.

Then, it was bumping into her at the mall where he saw a matching, mischievous gleam in Elliot’s eyes that mirrored Noelle’s. He didn’t even have time to protest when Noelle grabbed onto Ingrid’s hand, tugging her off in the opposite direction toward a store his daughter had _definitely_ weaseled out of him earlier that week.

Ingrid threw him an exasperated look over her shoulder but let herself be towed away by his brat of a daughter. Simultaneously, Elliot tugged on his pant leg and pointed at the display of kitchenware. “Mom’s been talking about it all week.”

Sylvain perked right up.

Now, Ingrid and Noelle walk back toward him with a new tiny black giftbag in hand. His stomach flips, feeling only slightly bad coming back emptyhanded, but it was far easier to ship the new stand-mixer directly to her apartment than have to carry it back while potentially losing Elliot in the crowd by not holding his hand. Noelle beams at him and he ruffles her hair. “Have fun, gingersnap?”

She nods vigorously and swings the hand still in Ingrid’s. “Yes! We should do this more often.”

Flushing, his eyes dart over to Ingrid’s amused expression before looking back to his daughter. “I don’t think that’s up for me to decide, now is it?”

Elliot squeezes his fingers and pipes up, “can we do this more often, mom? I had a lot of fun with Mister Gautier.”

The back of his neck warms as Ingrid’s green eyes flicker over to him and she smiles. “Of course.”

Sylvain’s breath hitches. _Of course._

Unable to look at her face anymore, his eyes drop to the black giftbag in her hands and he stutters out. “Y-you didn’t have to get me anything.”

He can practically hear Noelle rolling her eyes at him, but it’s the sudden warmth that covers his free hand and that makes him snap his head up. Ingrid is _much_ closer than he remembers her being as her smile widens. “As if you wouldn’t get me anything after specifically making a trip out to the mall?”

Sylvain is about to argue, _despite_ knowing that she’s right, that he’s empty-handed and—

Ingrid clasps his hand in both of hers before leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Happy holidays, Sylvain.”

And then he sees her receding back, hand-in-hand with Elliot as the boy turns back to shoot him a bright smile, waving happily.

Noelle nudges his leg and grabs onto his hand that's not holding Ingrid's gift, sighing. “You should’ve kissed her, daddy.”

Sylvain splutters and looks down at his daughter. “ _What?_ ”

“I’m just _saying_ …”

“You can’t just go around kissing people, gingersnap.”

She pouts at him. “But doesn’t everyone do that during the holidays? It’s in all the movies!”

Willing the blush in his cheeks down, Sylvain crouches down and holds both of Noelle’s hands. “The movies aren’t always real, sweetie. Plus, there’s usually mistletoe or something like that.”

He doesn’t miss the gleam that lights up Noelle’s eyes. “Mistletoe? What is that?”

“It’s a plant, something people like hanging up in the doorways during the holidays.”

“What does it look like?”

Sylvain can already feel where this is going but answers her question anyway. “It has thin green leaves with either red or white berries. Why do you ask, gingersnap?”

Noelle nods her head with conviction before grinning widely at him. “Because! Now I know what look for.”

“…For what?”

“For the thing that’ll finally make you kiss Miss Galatea!”

Sylvain loses his balance and topples over, heart pounding in his chest. He saw this coming but walked right into Noelle’s trap anyway.

Because _Goddess_ , even if he’ll never admit it out loud…

He wants to kiss her.

He wants to kiss Ingrid.


	4. wish list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid supposes she should be happy Elliot still believes in the magic of Christmas, no matter how embarrassed she is about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS Y'ALL  
> I'M SORRY FOR BEING MIA
> 
> between my interview season and the multiple other projects I'm juggling... sylvgrid has unfortunately been on the back burner...  
> BUT IT'S THE HOLIDAYS AND WHO NEEDS MORE WHOLESOME SWEET FAMILY TIME???
> 
> W E D O !!!!

Ingrid is decidedly _distracted._

She’s _been_ distracted ever since she left Sylvain’s apartment that Saturday afternoon, blush still burning bright on her face and Elliot humming absently in the back seat. Her hands were still a little bit sore from the prior night’s burns, but Sylvain offered her some pain medications before she left. Their fingers brushed and her skin tingled as she hastily gulped down some water and all but dashed out with as much dignity as she could.

Because, _Goddess,_ waking up tucked under his chin, limbs tangled, and his steady heartbeat underneath her ear…

Ingrid was, and _is_ , horribly embarrassed.

Her brothers used to always tease her about being a sleepy cuddler, reaching out to burrow into whoever was bunking with her that night. It was cute when she was a kid. It was cute when it was with her friends whenever they shared a bed for sleepovers.

With Sylvain?

Absolute. Mortification.

Sylvain is… _stupid_ attractive. She thought so from the moment she met him, an odd tugging in her chest that made her stare at him for just a moment too long to be considered polite. But then for him to look after Elliot after school the same way he does for his own daughter?

It should be _illegal_ for him to smile at her like that.

Her heart _also_ skips a beat every time he flusters in front of her, and she can’t help herself. Teasing him to watch the flush rise in her cheeks felt _natural_ , like it was something she’d always done before.

And of course, anything he could’ve said to make her blush in return, is singlehandedly delivered by Noelle, with her big green eyes and toothy smile. The little girl has… such a _way_ with words. Her _honesty_ strikes her to her core… she’s not sure if Noelle was trying to expose her dad, or _her._

Or even both of them.

With the way her eyes glittered when she greeted her good morning while wearing Sylvain’s shirt and shorts… Ingrid honestly couldn’t tell.

She snaps back into the present when her timer goes off. That was _months_ ago, and her hands had healed, but Sylvain’s soft breaths into her hair and his arms around her waist were _permanently_ seared into her memory. Despite herself, she can feel her cheeks heat as she hurries over to the oven to take out the gingerbread Elliot asked her to make the day before. Christmas was nearing and Sylvain’s gift from the last-minute holiday shopping arrived earlier this week.

Elliot had wiggled excitedly next to her as she carefully unwrapped the gift, barely able to hold her smile back as he cheered and bundled her in the tightest hug he could manage. “You’re always working so hard, even after you come home… I saw all of these things while you were at work and I thought it might make things easier for you! I didn’t know what it was called, but Mr. Gautier helped me find it though!”

Her chest warmed at the mention of Sylvain, ruffling her son’s hair as he squealed happily. “I love it, Elliot. We’ll be able to make all of our sweets much easier now. Anything you want in particular?”

Ingrid watched her son light up and rattle off an impressive list of bakes before settling on gingerbread, so they could decorate it tomorrow morning. She _also_ watched his expression change from one of glee into mild alarm as he jolted out of her arms. “I still have to write my list to Santa!”

Bemused, she watched Elliot race off to his room, whispering to himself all the while. She can’t be sure, but she _thought_ she heard Noelle’s name in there at some point and she tried not to think too much of it.

Now, she smiles as she sees her son emerge from his bedroom, hair mussed and yawning widely. He toddles over to her, arms outstretched for his morning hug that she more than happily sweeps him into. “Good morning, sweetie. Sleep well?”

Elliot hums happily and buries his face into her neck. “Mhm. Is the gingerbread done?”

Ingrid bounces him in her arms and presses a kiss into his hair. “It’s just cooling now, and I’ll make the icing soon. Do you want to help after some breakfast?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes! But, before I eat, can we mail this letter to Santa out?”

“Of course. Why don’t you bring the letter to me and I’ll send it now while you go brush your teeth?”

Elliot brightens and squirms in her arms, so she sets him down to let him dash off into his room again. He appears moments later, envelope in hand as he smiles toothily at her. “Thank you, mommy!”

As her son disappears into the shared bathroom, Ingrid flips the envelope over and smiles at his wobbly script. Glancing back at the doorway to make sure Elliot was still occupied, she ducks into her own room and opens the letter, curious to what her son asked Santa for.

> _Dear Santa,_
> 
> _This is Elliot Galatea. I know I’m writing this letter a little bit late… but I promised my best friend Noelle that we’d write these letters asking for the same thing! Mommy has looked so much happier lately after we went over to Mr. Gautier and Noelle’s place… This Christmas, I really really hope we can spend some more time with them!_
> 
> _And… and I don’t know exactly what else Noelle wished for, but… I really like Mr. Gautier and I really like seeing him make mommy smile._
> 
> _Santa, can Mr. Gautier be my dad too? I called him dad one time when I was sleeping over… I didn’t mean to, but he already does a lot of dad things for Noelle and dad things for mom, like make her happy!_
> 
> _I promise I’ll be good for the rest of my life! I’ll eat all of my veggies and I’ll make sure to do all my chores to help mommy out!_
> 
> _Thank you,_
> 
> _Elliot Galatea_

Ingrid’s face burns as she finishes the letter, the last few sentences sending her head spinning.

“Mom?”

Ingrid fumbles with the letter and quickly hides it under her pillow as her son pokes his head into her room. “I’ll be right there, Elliot! Just finding some stamps for your letter.”

Elliot grins and nods, running back to the kitchen where he bounces excitedly for the cooling gingerbread.

Ingrid looks back to the letter underneath her pillow and pulls her phone out before she can second guess herself.

_Ingrid: how would you like to help me fulfill Elliot’s wish-list to Santa?_

She stares at her screen, heart pounding in her chest. His response pops up immediately.

_Sylvain: Name it and it’s done._

Thinking back to Elliot’s second request, Ingrid flushes, but types quickly all the same before locking her phone to start up breakfast for her son.

_Ingrid: Then you and Noelle are cordially invited to spend Christmas with us_

_Ingrid: Also, I got your gift. Thank you. I love it._

Her phone buzzes again but she resolves to check it _after_ she’s done in the kitchen, away from items that she could potentially burn herself with.

* * *

Ingrid has their mini Christmas tree set up in the corner, boxes of ornaments set-out next to it while another batch of gingerbread cools on the countertop. Elliot bounces happily around the apartment, constantly peering out their window for signs of Sylvain and Noelle. Still seeing nothing but snow, he whines and turns back toward her. “How much longer, mom? I feel like I’ve been waiting _hours._ ”

Chuckling, Ingrid ruffles his hair. “Soon, baby. It’s snowing outside, so I’m sure Mr. Gautier is driving slower than usual.”

Elliot huffs and nestles into her side. “Okay… I’m just excited is all. It’s been just the two of us for so long, I’m really really happy Noelle and Mr. Gautier are coming over.”

Ingrid’s heart flutters in her chest and she smiles, pulling her son in closer. “Me too.”

They sit like that for a little while longer, her fingers brushing through his hair, humming idly like she used to when he was a baby. Elliot curls a little bit closer, content smile on his face when her phone vibrates in her pocket. Eyes widening, he jumps up and races to the door, voice filled with glee. “They’re here!”

Sure enough, the apartment bell rings and Ingrid buzzes them in. She pokes her head out the door as Elliot peers down into the stairwell, waving vigorously at an equally ecstatic Noelle.

Ingrid’s heart jumps into her throat as Sylvain smiles warmly up at her.

* * *

Ingrid finds herself tangled in a mess of Christmas lights with Sylvain as Noelle and Elliot giggle uncontrollably, hands full of silver tinsel they continue to wind around them. Ornaments laid forgotten and pushed to the side of the living room, their tree half decorated as their kids push them even closer together. Ingrid laughs exasperatedly as Sylvain attempts to untangle them, only to have his hand slapped away by an overzealous Noelle who pouts at him. “Ow! Gingersnap—”

“Actually daddy, hold your hand out.”

Ingrid watches him raise his eyebrows. “You _just_ slapped my hand.”

Noelle huffs and grabs his hand, slapping something else into his hand. Sylvain looks down curiously before his cheeks flush violently. Ingrid smiles bemusedly as Sylvain hisses at his daughter, “ _Noelle—_ ”

“I _just_ gave you mistletoe, daddy. So you _have_ to kiss her now!”

Sylvain looks wildly to her, eyes panicked. Heat blooms in her chest as he begins to stammer incoherently. Ingrid looks to Noelle briefly before sending the little girl a wink. She hears Sylvain sputter and she looks back to him, her own cheeks flushing. With the limited movements of her arms, she rises to the tips of her toes and gently presses her lips to his.

She doesn’t linger, but she _does_ savor the tingling warmth in her lips and the way his brown eyes widen.

“Merry Christmas, Sylvain.”


	5. watch and learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Ingrid's birthday and she really doesn't expect anything much, especially not after winding down from the whirlwind of the holiday season.
> 
> Just the usual small cake she makes for herself and Elliot.
> 
> She _didn't_ realize someone has been... taking notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID SOMETHING FOR SYLVAIN'S BIRTHDAY SO I FELT GUILTY IF I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING FOR INGRID'S BIRTHDAY
> 
> SO HERE WE ARE
> 
> DID I USE THIS TROPE ALREADY IN A DIFFERENT SYLVGRID FIC?
> 
> ....IDK WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT

_Something,_ Ingrid decides, is up with Sylvain.

 _Yes_ , she kissed him on Christmas after their kids tied them up in string lights and Noelle slapped a sprig of decoration mistletoe into his palm.

 _Yes,_ she let him sneak another kiss on New Year’s at midnight once they put the kids to sleep after another night of holiday festivities at her apartment.

And another, the morning after she convinced him to sleepover since Noelle was already sound asleep in Elliot’s room.

She’d woken up tucked under his chin, curled into his warmth as he traced idle patterns onto her shoulder. He smiled lazily at her when she blinked the sleep from her eyes, hand reaching up to smooth her messy fringe down. “Morning.”

Despite herself, she still felt a blush flood her cheeks, ducking back down into his chest as she murmured against his skin. “Morning…”

The chuckle that rumbled beneath her should’ve been _illegal_ , but she missed it all the same as he slowly untangled himself from her. “I’m going to go wake Noelle and head back, but you should stay in bed. Sleep in, you don’t get a lot of days off.”

Her face slipped into a pout as he slid out of the blankets, watching a shiver run through his body before he threw on his sweater. His head swiveled back to her before he let out a groan. “ _Don’t_ look at me like that, otherwise I’ll never make it out the door.”

Ingrid jutted her lip out and he groaned again, exaggerating his exasperation as he stomped over. He leaned down to kiss her softly. Her arms wrapped around his neck and brought him back onto the bed. He huffed against her lips with an unconvincing warning, “ _Ingrid_ …”

She kissed him again, smiling against his mouth. “Hmm… somehow I don’t think Noelle would mind.”

He stayed another hour.

Then, over breakfast, she watched Noelle whisper something furiously into his ear, only to have Elliot join her conspiratorially by whispering into his other ear. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as the two kids jumped back, wide grins on their faces while Sylvain seemed to be deep in thought.

Just as quickly, it was gone, and his usual bright smile was back on his face and sent her heart fluttering.

_He shouldn’t be allowed to smile at her like that._

After washing the dishes, Sylvain and Noelle packed up to leave, the little girl dragging her feet and whining all the while. A smile crept onto her face as she watched him ruffle his daughter’s hair, fielding her overly dramatic antics before he finally convinced her that it was time to go. He cajoled Noelle into giving a _proper_ ‘thank you’ to her and Elliot, wherein the little girl threw her arms around Ingrid’s legs, and chirped her happy ‘thanks Ms. Galatea!’

Smiling fondly, she leaned down to press a kiss to the little girl’s hair. “Of course, Noelle. You’re welcome back anytime.”

The little girl’s green eyes widened, and she whirled around to face Sylvain. “You hear that, daddy? I can come back anytime! So, why do I have to leave?”

He sighed. “Gingersnap…”

Noelle’s arms dropped away, and she mimicked her dad’s sigh. “ _Fine,_ fine… I’m _going._ ”

She paused to give Elliot another hug before skipping down the steps to the car. Sylvain called out after her before sighing again. He gave her a sheepish look. “Thanks for having us again, Ingrid. It means a lot,” then he looked down at Elliot and ruffled her son’s hair, “it’s always great to see you again too, Elliot. Take care of your mom, okay?”

Ingrid’s heart twisted in her chest when Elliot beamed and nodded his head eagerly. With that, Sylvain waved, and also started down the steps.

Her feet moved on her own and she was suddenly staring down the stairwell. “You too!”

Sylvain looked up at her, eyes wide. She cleared her throat. “You’re welcome back anytime too.”

He sent her one last smile that made her stomach flip. “I’ll take you up on that.”

And then, this _weirdness_ started. Where he fidgets more than usual, unable to meet her eyes, and made himself… scarce.

There was even a time she could’ve sworn she saw his red hair leaving her workplace when she went on her scheduled break. She called out to him, which resulted in the man in question to pick up his pace. She’d questioned Annette about since she’d been working the front earlier, only to confirm her suspicions when the tips of her ears turned red and she stuttered out a flimsy lie about how it _‘couldn’t_ _be Sylvain’_ , that he was _‘uh, has no idea where this bakery is, or that you work here!’_ , nevermind the fact that Sylvain _definitely_ knows she works in this bakery and is _most_ definitely smart enough to look it up on his phone if he wanted to.

Even when she came to pick up Elliot after school that day, where she spotted him waiting with their kids and indulging in their hushed whispers…

He seemed skittish as soon as Elliot broke away from their group huddle to wave enthusiastically at her.

Sylvain had flushed a shade of red she hadn’t seen since _before_ she kissed him.

_So, what’s his deal?_

Sighing, she walked with Elliot back to the car where he bounces in step next to her, swinging their hands. “Hey, mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

Elliot tugs on her hand until she stops to look down at him, eyes questioning. He beams at her. “Happy birthday, I love you!”

Chest warming, she ducks down to tuck her son in a tight hug, kissing the top of his head as she runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you, baby. I love you too.”

Her son grabs onto the back of her coat tightly, nuzzling his face into her neck before he pulls back suddenly. “What time do you get off work?”

Ingrid’s brow furrows. _Work?_ “Probably in another two hours, Mrs. Dominic is sending me home early because she doesn’t want me working on my birthday.”

And to her surprise _and_ suspicion, Elliot throws a huge thumbs-up over her shoulder. She whirls around, only to find Sylvain and Noelle pointedly _not_ looking in her direction.

_Oh._

She looks back to her son who smiles at her innocently. “Okay! Then, we can do something fun at home, right?”

Ingrid purses her lips before straightening up. “Of course, Elliot. We can do something fun.”

* * *

 _Something fun_ , turns out, was Elliot ‘finding’ Sylvain’s watch in their kitchen in their utensils drawer.

Which she opened earlier that morning, with _no_ watch in sight.

Ingrid bites back a smile as she watches her son gasp dramatically, wide eyes turning to her. _Noelle really has rubbed off on him_. “Oh no, Mr. Gautier’s watch! He has to come get it, mom!”

She barely suppresses a laugh as she plays along. “Can’t we give it to him tomorrow when you go to school, honey? I thought we were having ‘ _us’_ time for my birthday.”

Elliot’s eyes widen even further as his fingers clutch the watchband. She _almost_ feels bad until he shakes his head vigorously. “But it’s his _watch_! He needs it to know what time it is! How else is he going to get anywhere on time?”

This time, she can’t keep down the laugh that bursts out of her as Elliot pouts and whines. “Mommy!”

 _Is this what Sylvain feels like with Noelle?_ Unable to keep the indulgent smile off her face, Ingrid tilts her head. “Then would you like to call him and tell him to come get it?”

Her son noticeably perks up. “Yes!”

Taking out her phone, she quickly pulls up his number and sets the phone to speaker before handing it over to Elliot. She watches him visibly bounce in place as the phone rings, Sylvain answering within seconds, “hello?”

“Mr. Gautier, it’s Elliot!”

“Oh, hey buddy! What’s up? Everything okay?”

Warmth blooms in her chest as she catches her son’s face light up talking with Sylvain, heart tugging as his bouncing only gets faster. “Everything is fine! We’re home and you can come over now!”

Ingrid barely chokes down a snort when the other line goes suspiciously silent. _He must’ve heard her._ “Uh… come over for _what_ , bud?”

Elliot blinks in confusion before clapping a hand over his mouth, his eyes darting over to her. His next words are muffled. “Oh no…”

“Elliot?” Her son deftly turns away from her when Sylvain’s voice sounds from the phone again. “Um, your watch, Mr. Gautier! You left your watch here! You should come over and get it so you’re not late to anything!”

Ingrid looks on in amusement as her son keeps stealing glances back at her while he talks with Sylvain, eyes wider than ever. She leans against the kitchen counter as they finish talking, Sylvain promising to be over in about 20 minutes. Before he hangs up, she _swears_ she can hear Noelle cheering in the background.

Elliot quietly hands her phone back to her and wraps his arms around her legs, hiding his face in her pants. She smiles. “Elliot?”

“I didn’t mean to…”

Her chest tightens and she leans down to lift her son into her arms. “Didn’t mean to what, sweetie?”

He pouts at her. “I didn’t mean to ruin the surprise…”

She presses a kiss to his cheek and hums. “Hmmm, what surprise?”

Elliot huffs in her arms. “I _know_ you know!”

Ingrid smiles again. “Know what?”

“Mommy!”

* * *

20 minutes later, as promised, Sylvain shows up on her doorstep with a white box in one hand, Noelle in the other.

As soon as she opens her door, Noelle tumbles into her legs and wraps her in an enthusiastic hug. “Happy birthday, Ms. Galatea!”

Heart swelling, she bends down and returns Noelle’s hug, smile growing on her face. “Thank you, Noelle. Thank you for coming over with your dad,” her eyes dart over to Sylvain and she raises her eyebrows, “to… pick up his watch.”

Sylvain, at least, has the decency to look sheepish and rub the back of his neck. “Well… _that_ and we wanted to make a cake for you. For your birthday.”

She blinks. _A cake?_ Her eyes fly down to the white box in his hands and he offers it to her. Ingrid takes it numbly, staring at it in a daze. “You… what?”

Noelle pipes up from below, “we baked you a cake! You always make us really yummy treats, so we wanted to make you something too! We even got help from Ms. Dominic!”

 _Was that the bakery trip?_ Her lips part, eyes jumping from the box in her hands to Noelle to Sylvain, her voice feeling awfully watery, “I… Didn’t you say you burnt your brownies?”

Sylvain finally steps through her doorway, shutting the door behind him before giving her one of _those_ smiles again. “Well, I was _compelled_ to do better by two _very_ influential figureheads.”

Elliot pops over from the kitchen, grinning widely. “You’re here! Bring the cake over, let’s celebrate!” Throat burning, Ingrid smiles again and ducks down to hand the cake to Noelle. “ _Thank you_ , Noelle. Why don’t you take the cake into the kitchen and pick out the pieces you and Elliot want?”

Noelle nods quickly but tilts her head. “What about your piece? It’s your birthday, you’re supposed to get first pick!”

Ingrid feels warmth spreading throughout her body and tucks a flyaway piece of hair behind Noelle’s ear. “It’s my birthday, so _I_ want you two to pick first, okay? Besides,” her eyes flick briefly over to Sylvain and then back to the little girl, “I have to give your dad his watch back.”

Noelle ducks her head down, suddenly shy, but nods all the same as she trots off to the kitchen where Elliot _‘woops’_ with excitement.

Straightening up, Ingrid returns her gaze to Sylvain who’s watching her with such an _incredibly_ fond look on his face, her heart skips a beat. She clears her throat and grabs one of his hands, turning his palm to face up. “Your watch, Mr. Gautier.”

His eyebrows furrow. “You’re not holding my watch—”

Ingrid places her hand in his and tugs him forward, pressing a light kiss to his lips. She pulls back just so, resting her forehead against his. “Thank you, Sylvain. This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

She feels his skin heat as he stutters, “i-it’s just a cake. _Pretty_ sure it’s lopsided too—”

Shaking her head lightly, she leans in to catch his lips again, humming into his mouth as his arms shift to loop around her waist. She parts from him, blush rising on her face as he instinctively chases after her. Ingrid meets his questioning gaze and smiles until her cheeks ache. “You didn’t just bring me a cake, Sylvain… You brought me a family, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Sylvain swoops down to kiss her again, arms tightening around her before pulling back, eyes sparkling. “Then I guess watching and learning from Noelle really _did_ pay off.”

Ingrid snorts, arms circling around his waist. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up before he pecks her on the cheek, shifting to whisper in her ear, “planting the watch was _my_ idea.”


End file.
